


Unwanted Guests

by Ravvi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Bondage, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Mild sensory deprivation, Other, Overstimulation, Rough Oral Sex, Tentacles, almost a gangbang?, bondage in a small enclosed container, extremely enthusiastic tentacles, happy birthday ellie hope you like it : ), kinda but not really..., virgin fell papyrus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-15 20:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9256355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravvi/pseuds/Ravvi
Summary: Papyrus wakes up in a coffin-sized box.And then tentacles happen.Why are you still reading the summary?





	1. Motherlode

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NadaNine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/gifts).



Papyrus blearily opened his eyes and…

“Wha-?” he groaned, wincing as the sound made his head throb. He couldn’t see anything, and his voice had a strange, tinny quality to it that reminded him of the way sound echoed in a bare room. He was lying on his stomach against a surface that was hard and cold, discomfort steadily building in his shoulders, elbows, knees and hips. He tried to shift his weight, and abruptly discovered why he was aching. He’d been hog-tied, with his hands cuffed together and pressed to the small of his back, and his heels leashed to his wrists with only a few inches of give.

Adrenaline slammed through his body as he tried to yank his arms and legs free. They clinked when he moved, and the bonds tore cruelly at his bones as metal links ground against them. Chain? What the…where the hell was he?!

Panting, Papyrus summoned an attack. Most of bones he’d meant to conjure immediately popped out of existence as they tried to materialize halfway through something and were disrupted, leaving only three drifting in the air near his face. Their faint, bluish glow illuminated a steel wall just inches from his nose. He strained his neck backward and could just make out a ceiling, again only inches away. He turned his head and leaned forward, only to immediately bump his face against a third wall. Pulling away, he cursed softly, wishing he could rub at his stinging nasal bones. A box of some kind? He was hog-tied in a _box_?! Who would dare…

No…he couldn’t lose his temper now. There would be plenty of time to find his attackers later and remind them PAINFULLY why one did not tangle with the Great and Terrible Papyrus. Breathing deeply, he pulled his bone constructs a little closer, spread his wrists as far apart as they could go, and blindly flung his attacks into the chain between them. They shattered against the metal links, shards peppering his legs and back before dissipating with a quiet patter of spent magic. Growling softly, he thrashed against the cuffs, knees and elbows knocking against the sides of the box with sharp smacks that did nothing to help his growing unease. 

He hadn’t even made a _dent_.

“Shit…waking up…push it over…” Papyrus heard a nervous voice filter through the walls of the box.

“But…wanted…personal…” Another voice replied, more muffled and not quite as panicked as the first.

“If you low-life CRETINS do not LET ME OUT of this box **RIGHT NOW** I will personally see to it that the remainder of your lives are SHORT and MISERABLE!” Papyrus shrieked, throwing his shoulder into the side of the box for emphasis.

The box immediately slid forward a few feet, then was jerked backward as though the voices were fighting over it. “NO!” he heard the second voice shriek, “Idiot! Do YOU want to do the explaining when…“

“Now, now,” a third voice said softly. “I told you two to wait.”

There was a very loud silence, broken suddenly by a playful knock against the roof of the box. “Still alive in there?”

Papyrus spat a curse and the voice chuckled. “Good, good. I’ve never given them a live delivery before. It will be interesting to see what they do with you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Let me OUT OF HERE!” Papyrus snarled, blindly summoning an arc of bones outside the box and flinging them outward. He must have missed badly because the voice only laughed harder.

“Try not to die,” it said cheerfully.

Papyrus had just enough time for surprise to overcome anger before his tiny metal prison was shoved forward, then dropped into the middle of the deepest lake in the Underground with a colossal splash.

Cold

Dark

The box leaked like a bad roof in Waterfall, quickly immersing its occupant in freezing water. Despite the obvious drawbacks to his current situation, Papyrus was more annoyed than scared. He didn’t mind the cold, and the wet was distasteful, yes, but bearable. Breathing was a slightly bigger issue, but only because breathing water instead of air would make his nose drip in a most unbecoming manner for the next two or three days.

As the box settled into the mud at the bottom of the lake, he chuckled darkly at the shortsightedness of his foes. This wouldn’t kill him, not by a long shot. He could live down here for months if he had to. 

Papyrus shifted irritably as he felt cold, dirty water fill the spaces between his bare fingers and toes. Sighing deeply, he summoned another salvo of bones and flung them at the chains, wondering idly where his gloves and boots had gotten to. Considering his current circumstances, they’d probably been stolen by his captors. Dammit, he _liked_ those boots. 

He spent the next little while throwing attacks against the chains, then stopped when he felt himself nearing exhaustion without any noticeable progress. It would be better to conserve his magic, for now. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but throwing attack after attack into his bonds wasn’t working. He had to be smarter…had to treat this like a puzzle.

Dear god it was dark.

And quiet.

His body was too dense for the water to make him float, but it did support him a little, easing the hardness of the steel floor on his front. By contrast, his contorted joints were beyond aching and starting to go numb, with little flashes of pain pointedly reminding him that his wrists and ankles were still locked together whenever he moved. 

Think. Just think. There had to be a way out of this.

The water pressed in on his senses, muting the small sounds his body made when he shifted inside the box and completely washing away any sense of smell or taste. His eyes started to play tricks on him, showing him little flickering lights, and shapes moving in the inky water that faded the second he tried to focus on them. 

His sense of touch slowly magnified as the minutes crept on, leaving him acutely aware of the cold steel under his cheekbone when he rested his head against the floor, and the odd, heavy pull of the water against his sinuses as he breathed.

There had to be something, ANYTHING he could do.

Despite the complete and utter lack of distractions, Papyrus found himself at a loss in the still darkness, unable to think of a way to get himself free. Anger slowly faded into worry, then became tinged with genuine fear. How long had he been down here? How long had he been unconscious before that? Would it have been long enough for Sans to notice his absence? 

Oh god, was Sans ok? He hoped that his brother had done the smart thing and found a place to hole up until Papyrus could think of a way out of this. If Sans ended up going out and getting himself murdered before Papyrus could escape, Papyrus was going to kill him. Repeatedly.

As he continued to try (and fail) to think of ways out of his predicament, Papyrus let his mind wander. He thought back over the last couple of months, trying to recall every person he'd spoken to, wondering who, exactly, had ordered him to be captured, trussed up, and dumped into a lake. The voices hadn't been familiar. Had he unknowingly made an enemy that preferred to kill their foes by drowning then in metal boxes? It seemed like an excessively complicated method to him, especially since it wouldn't work on monsters whose native element was water, or monsters like him who didn't need to breathe. How strange...

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt something lightly brush against his knee.

Papyrus flinched, jerking to the side and accidentally smacking the back of his head into the box with a muffled thunk. Blinking away stars, he shakily conjured a small bone, using the faint glow to illuminate…

What the…

_I’ve never given them a live delivery before. It will be interesting to see what they do with you._

Just in front of his face, a long, black shape with a tapered nose was pushing itself along the wall of the box. It’s body pulsed as it moved forward, thickening to the width of Papyrus’ wrist, then slimming to the width of two fingers with an almost hypnotic smoothness. It froze as the faint light of the bone attack illuminated it, then turned toward him, swaying gently in the water. Shrieking incoherently, Papyrus flung the attack at it, piercing its midsection and casting the box into back darkness as the tiny bone was consumed. 

He scrambled to form a stronger attack, then froze as something thick and terrifyingly strong seized his neck and gave him a little shake, forcing his head back and mercilessly squeezing his cervical vertebrae. He hastily tore the attack down, but the pressure trying to separate his head from his body only increased, joints starting to burn warningly as the vertebrae were slowly pulled apart. No, no, no, no, he was sorry, he didn’t mean to, oh god he didn’t want to die down here, pleasepleasepleasePLEASE…

The pressure paused. Papyrus gasped softly, struggling to keep himself as still as possible. The thing holding his neck shuddered lightly, then tentatively rubbed its nose into the space between his straining vertebrae. It shuddered again, and the pressure abruptly released as the shape curled itself smoothly around his neck, prodding at the small crevices and notches in his spine with intense, but oddly gentle touches.

Papyrus whimpered as a similar touch began creeping up his femur, tugging lightly against the leather of his pants. It reached his belt and he squirmed as it began to stroke the crest of his exposed ilium, sliding itself back and forth across the bone as though enjoying the smooth texture against its body.

A third, fourth, and fifth set of shapes began exploring his arms, picking over the chains on his wrists, slipping between his radius and ulna, tracing the scars gouged into his humeri. Meanwhile, the first (snake? eel? tentacle??) had reached his jaw and casually slipped into the gap behind his sharpened teeth. It rubbed gently against the floor of his mouth, and his tongue automatically swelled into the space, glowing faintly behind his clenched teeth. Suddenly, the light touches exploring his body froze. 

Papyrus tensed, bracing himself to be brutally dismembered when his jaw was forcefully pried open. The rest of his body was instantly abandoned as the shapes rammed themselves into his mouth, tugging and curling around his tongue, slipping in and out of his throat to rub against the scarlet organ over and over. 

Papyrus squawked in alarm and tried to pull his head away, which only earned him a firm pressure on the back of his skull and a light burn in his mandible as they wrenched him open a little wider, keeping him still as frantically pleasured themselves against his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut as the rough treatment made him choke and splutter, tugging mindlessly on the chains pinning his wrists and ankles behind him. The rapid stimulation was making him feel extremely uncomfortable in a way that was terrifyingly unfamiliar as his bones warmed, body tensing and head spinning.

As his mouth continued to be enthusiastically violated, several more shapes began to explore his feet and legs, pressing themselves between his bare toes and tugging curiously at the cuffs of his pants. They slid themselves along his bones whenever they encountered them, largely ignoring his clothes and the parts of his body covered by them. 

Then, a tentacle curiously poked itself into his shirt collar and discovered that there were bones _underneath the clothes_.

His mouth was immediately emptied and he gasped raggedly, coughing hard and writhing against his bonds as the tentacles eagerly dove into his sleeves and down the front of his shirt. At least one decided that it wasn’t interested and returned to his mouth, thrusting in so deeply he choked, moaning in angry frustration as others soon joined it. The rest began winding around his ribs, making him shudder as they found old scars and sensitive places, taking note whenever he reacted and returning to those spots over and over. 

One slipped up his femur, pushing itself along in little spurts as his pants impeded its progress. It gave a particularly hard push, and the seam split with a muffled pop. As though the sound had startled them, the tentacles froze. 

The clothes could come _off_.

They quickly stripped away his shirt and tugged at his belt, making him gasp wetly around the tentacles in his mouth as the buckle caught, then popped free. There was a muffled rip as they roughly split his pants to expose his pelvis, then smaller tears as they jerked the leather downward and apart. Seconds after they’d started, he was left with nothing by scraps clinging to his knees and elbows, bare to the experimental touches nosing along the newly exposed bone.

“mmMMN…gh,” Papyrus gasped as they turned their relentless attention to his pelvis, delighted by how sensitive he was to touches in that area. He had long lost track of how many of these things were crammed into the box with him, shuddering as they twined around his legs, threaded themselves through his ischium, and nosed at his pelvic inlet. His entire body tingled with warmth as shivers and uncontrollable twitches spread across his pelvis and down his femurs. A faint red glow filled the box as his bones flushed crimson with his magic.

Papyrus was intensely confused, and more than a little scared. What was happening? Why was his body reacting this way? This couldn’t be normal. Was he having some sort of weird, allergic reaction? Where the tentacles doing something bad to him? His bones were far too hot, and he could barely breathe, chest hitching with little, ragged gasps that only became more shallow and uneven as every inch of his body was mercilessly stimulated. Hazily, he considered summoning as many attacks as he possibly could in a last-ditch effort to make them leave him alone, even though he was fairly certain they would kill him if he did. 

And…he wasn’t completely sure that making them stop was a good thing. Something deep inside him was desperately afraid of what might happen if they stopped now.

He felt a deep, rolling pressure build in waves around his pelvic inlet, until something pushed outward into the space with a hard pinch that quickly faded into a low, pleasant throb. Papyrus gasped, straining to look down at himself as the tentacles froze for a third time, quivering lightly. A crimson glow bathed his femurs and pelvis, emanating from the sleek cock and slit-shaped opening that had formed between his legs.

Papyrus didn’t have enough time to process what had just happened before they mobbed him, struggling to get as much contact with the scarlet ecto-flesh as physically possible. He bucked and shuddered as they stroked along the length of his cock, teasing the tip and rubbing into the slit with slick, cool friction. They spread his legs wider as they pressed into the opening of his pussy in twos and threes, dipping inside his pelvic girdle to squeeze along the outside of his passage as it was filled, emptied, filled again. His arms and legs had stopped hurting, he wasn’t feeling anything besides the slick forms pulling at him, caressing him, and finally thrusting into him as pleasure overwhelmed his mind.

Distantly, he felt a muffled snap and realized the chains around his wrists and ankles had been broken. Taking advantage of his newfound mobility, the tentacles nudged his legs even further apart. He weakly tried to push them away from his face and they wrenched his arms downward, pinning them to his ribs as they pulled him around like a ragdoll. A tight, burning pain cut through the pleasure as his opening was mercilessly stretched to its limit, tentacles pounding into him with greater numbers and more desperate need. They hit the back of his passage as they thrust hard and deep, the lewd, wet sounds of their motion not entirely muffled by the water. 

Papyrus unconsciously tried to spread his legs to ease their entry, but the box cut him short, even as they pinned his pelvis to the ceiling and pressed his knees to the floor. Every thrust made him twitch involuntarily, even as a particularly rough squeeze against the tip of his cock made him yelp and he choked around the bodies thrusting into his throat. 

He couldn’t think, didn’t know what was happening to him. Despite the pain, each stroke was making him feel a little tighter, a little warmer. Something was winding up inside him, and all he could think was that he wanted a little more, a little more, a little…

Papyrus arched backward as he came, spilling cum over the tentacles still wrapped around his cock and clenching tightly around those filling his pussy. They shuddered with him, pulling at his now agonizingly sensitive body as he quivered with aftershocks, hips jerking uncontrollably. They loosened their grip on his pelvis, pulling out of his mouth and pussy in slow, almost drunken spurts as he came down from the high, gasping and whimpering at the touches that were now intolerably intense. He curled onto his side, pulling his newly freed arms inward and pressing his legs together as his magic dispelled and the interior of the box was once more thrown into darkness.

Papyrus cringed as the tentacles continued to curl over him, pressing his back into a corner and wishing desperately that he had enough room to pull his knees up to his chest, or even straighten them from their cramped position. He was drained, overstimulated, brutally unhappy, and so close to magical exhaustion that he couldn’t stop shaking. Whatever they had done had used up a lot of his energy. There was no way he had enough magic left now to break himself out.

He was trapped.

Papyrus felt a sudden surge of panic as a tentacle began nosing at his mouth again and flung himself against the inside of the box, claustrophobia finally setting in as he desperately pounded on the unforgiving steel walls. 

"HELP! HELP ME! SANS, SOMEBODY, **HELP**!" He felt a flash of pain shoot down the back of his hand as a bone cracked under the beating, and immediately something seized his wrists and neck, holding him down as he thrashed and screamed for his brother. He sobbed as they stroked insistently over the places they now knew were sensitive, brushing his legs aside and moving his pelvis into a more accessible position as they curled slowly around his body. He wasn’t sure whether they were trying to pacify him, or just work him up for a repeat performance, as he shuddered in their firm, demanding grip.


	2. Baited Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is an unhappy judge and Papyrus is just plain unhappy.
> 
> Warnings include non-con, mind-control, depiction of a non-consensual soul bond, light gore, genital piercing, sexual slavery (kinda?), overstimulation and general Underfell nastiness.

The spider monster standing before him in Judgement Hall still had the cute, stubby legs and round face of a child.  Despite that, her expression was hard and cold, eyes already tinged red from experiences that Sans could only guess at.  No stripes either, but that was normal for orphans.  Stripes were for kids with powerful parents to protect them.  Otherwise, they just marked you as easy pickings for one of the gangs or an EXP hunter.  In this Underground, you grew up fast, or you didn’t grow up at all. 

“Two complaints of petty thievery, and one of smuggling contraband between the Capitol and Waterfall.  Other suspected charges include further counts of petty thievery, loitering, spreading propaganda, defacing public property…” the announcer was saying in a bored voice.  Sans resisted the urge to grind his teeth, keeping his expression impassive as the girl’s suspected crimes were listed.  She must have pissed off some noble, if Asgore had deigned to bring her case to Justice Hall.  Stealing bread and selling shit you found at the dump was something everyone did. 

“Begin judgement.”

The girl scowled at him, shifting a little on her six legs.  Scared, but she wasn’t letting it show.  Much.

Sans checked her.

_DANA – ATK 10  DEF 12_

_LV2 – Didn’t want to do it.  Didn’t have a choice._

Sans mechanically repeated the information aloud for Asgore to hear, staring at the window just to the left of the girl’s face.  She looked like she was trying to catch his eye.  He avoided it.  There was no sense in making this harder than it needed to be.

“Due to the defendant’s LV and age, the sentence shall be light.  Judge, the thieves’ brand,” Asgore commanded from the shadows behind Sans. 

As though the king’s words had yanked on a string connected directly to his soul, Sans’ magic flared to life.  Not wanting to outright resist (because it would hurt like a motherfucker), he stepped forward, one hand already raised and surrounded with a flickering, blue nimbus.

“Gimme your hand,” he said quietly, close enough now that he could hear her quick, shallow breaths.  He half expected her to refuse.  Instead, she shakily held out her left hand, palm-upward.

_He didn’t want to do this…_

His magic was already forming on its own, loaded with Asgore’s cold, rage-filled intent.  The intensity of it shocked Sans, even as a quiet, cynical part of himself nodded smugly.  So she HAD pissed someone off.  Someone important.  Well, Ass-gore was on his own then.  He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his stupid, petty reasons, this was a _kid-_

Sans choked as a searing burn flared across his sternum, followed by the sensation that he was falling.  Everything he was, everything that was HIM, quickly drained away under the king’s influence until nothing was left but a bitter, defeated echo.  He felt himself look up, eyesockets empty and expression slack.  The girl looked scared now. 

The tiles below her hand glowed blue, and a single bone shot upward from the spot.  It pierced her palm in a single, violent strike, crunching through skin, bone, and carapace.  She shrieked, jerking her hand back to her chest as dark blue blood oozed from the wound. 

“It is done,” Sans heard himself say.  “The mark will scar on both sides of the hand.  Let all know that Dana Spider-kind has been branded as a thief.”

As he spoke the last words, he felt the king’s influence lifting, letting his own personality resurface like a half-drowned rat.  He gasped quietly for breath, hoping the guards couldn’t see him shaking as he mentally cussed out his monarch.  Asgore didn’t HAVE to make it feel like that.  He didn’t have to leave him with so much…residue either.  Sans could practically still _taste_ that toxic, acidic magic sticking to his soul, like a mixture of heartburn and desperate, enraged sadness.

“Next case,” Asgore said, tone lofty and bored.

Sans stepped back, letting the guards take the girl outside.  Asgore’s magic tingled along his arm, urging to stab her in the back before she could leave.  Breathing deeply, Sans closed his eyes and pushed the foreign magic down, focusing on his breathing.  He was Sans.  He had an amazing brother who’d somehow managed to single-handedly drag Snowdin back from the brink of anarchy, and a halfway-decent house to live in.  He was Sans, not a lonely, tyrannical king.

“Feeling reluctant today, Judge?” Asgore asked, tone soft and dangerous.

The image of Judgement Hall’s golden tiles sprinkled with blue-black blood flickered in his mind’s eye, so vividly it might have been painted on the backs of his eyelids.  He tried to push that away too.  Focus on the positives, or just…don’t think.  He was separate from the link that Asogre had forced into his soul when he’d become judge.  From the actions that he was compelled to do.

“No, your majesty,” Sans replied without turning his head, curling his hands up inside his sleeves to suppress their shaking.

Court was almost over.  It was just another couple of hours.

 

Sans took a shortcut away the second that court was adjourned, landing in a small, empty cave deep in Waterfall.  The air here was warm and damp, full of quiet, dripping sounds as water ran down a curtain of white stalactites and fell into a pool below.  Taking a small, whimpered breath, Sans closed his eyes and tentatively reached into his soul, feeling for the residue that Asgore had left behind.  He had to let it out before it started trying to integrate with his own magic…

_HowDAREsheHowDAREsheHOWDARESHE-_

Sans shrieked and threw his arm into a sharp gesture.  His chest burned and a huge wave of bones broke through the ground and slammed into the walls around him.  Stalactites shook loose from the ceiling, filling the air with dust as the yellow-tinged bones tore themselves to splinters.  The magic quickly expended itself, and the rage that wasn’t his own faded into a deep, brutal sadness.  He slowly dropped to his knees, sobbing inconsolably without fully knowing why.  All he knew was that he was lonely.  So, _so lonely, she was gone.  She was gone and it was all his own, fucking fault.  If only he’d done something.  Said something.  If only he’d been good enough for her to stay…_

Sans cried until the last of the second-hand sadness had faded into his usual, semi-functional funk.  His eyesockets were hot and oversensitive from crying, and his sinuses felt so stopped that he had to breathe through his mouth, but the calm catharsis that usually came after crying himself out felt kinda…weird.  He wasn’t sad.  A little tired, maybe.  More than a little disgusted and pissed at having to maim some poor kid for stupid-ass reasons.  But not that deep, aching sadness that was always smothered in simmering rage.

Sans sat up and hugged himself with a manic, little giggle.  Daammmnnn, Asgore had been PISSED.  Which meant that Dana hadn’t just shit in some noble’s Cheerios.  She’d pissed off _Asgore_ himself, and more impressively, she’d lived to tell about it.  Good for her.  He hoped she had a hiding spot where she could spend the next decade or so.  Asgore was NOT forgiving.  Or above using seedier methods to get revenge.

Sans crawled to the edge of the water and gingerly pulled his shirt open.  The Delta rune seared onto his sternum just below his collarbones was glowing a soft, gold colour, and the bone around it was irritated and flushed scarlet.  Gingerly, he splashed some water on it, sighing with relief as the liquid soothed the burn.  The water in this little cave was some of the best in the Underground.  Not like most of Waterfall’s ponds, which stank of decay or were inhabited by unfriendly monsters.

Sighing deeply, Sans shook the worst of the dust off his clothes, then teleported back to Snowdin.  Papyrus should be back by now, and the thought filled him with happy anticipation.  Maybe it was a scrap of the King’s magic still clinging to his soul, but he _really_ wanted a hug.  He wouldn’t even have to say what had happened…he could just pretend he was really glad to see him…

“Hey bro, I’m home,” he called, locking the door behind him and walking into the kitchen.  “Papyrus?”

Huh, not there.  Maybe he’d had a bad day too?

Sans climbed up the stairs and knocked softly on his brother’s room.  “Hey Boss, you doing ok…?”

The door swung inward, showing that the room was very empty.  Alarm bells immediately started to go off in Sans’ mind, half of them demanding that he panic and begin tearing the underground apart, and the other half demanding that he IMMEDIATELY panic and start tearing the underground apart.  He compromised by pulling out his phone and turning it on.  The device seemed to take forever to power up, and when it did, he barely had a chance to do anything before notifications started to pour in.  Missed call, missed call, missed call…about sixty missed calls, apparently.  All from Undyne too, which was strange.  He’d given her his number after Paps had started training with her, but she’d never tried to get ahold of him before…

His phone buzzed, and the screen read ‘Call incoming, Undying Loudmouth.’  Sans quickly answered it.

“You want something fishface?” Sans said, answering the call.

“Do you know how many FUCKING times I tried to call you asshole?!”

“Uhhh, a lot?” Sans scowled and decided to cut right to the point. “Where’s Papyrus?  You guys having a sleepover or something?”

“I fucking WISH.  I haven’t seen him since yesterday-“

Sans stared blankly at Papyrus’ action figures, all lined up neatly by height and costume colour.  It took him a second to realize that he’d dropped the phone.

“Where are you?” he asked the second he’d picked it back up.

“…the hell?  Outside my place-“

Sans immediately teleported there, appearing right behind Undyne with a little ‘pop’ of displaced air.

“Get your ass over here-“

“Done.”

She whirled and Sans ducked to avoid the hand that would have smacked him across the face.  He didn’t avoid the second that wrapped around the collar of his jacket and slammed him back-first against the wall of Undyne’s house.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?”

“YOU THINK I’D FUCKING BE HERE IF I KNEW?” Sans yelled back, eye flashing crimson and gold.  Undyne seemed unimpressed.  If anything her grip on him tightened.

“Oh, I don’t know.  I’ve only been trying to get ahold of you ALL FUCKING DAY and taking time away from putting down the gang that’s trying to DESTROY THE GODDAMN ROAD OUT OF WATERFALL so that I could LOOK FOR HIM-“

“IT WAS A FUCKING JUDGEMENT DAY!”

Undyne choked, then dropped him, whirled to face her training dummy, and slammed her fist into its head.  The stand holding it to the ground snapped, sending the straw-stuffed mannequin tumbling down the front path.  Sans coughed, leaning heavily against the wall as he fingered his delicate cervical vertebrae.  Fucking fishface and her temper-

“Ok,” Undyne panted without turning to look at him.  “Ok.  Your new job is to search every fucking corner of Snowdin until you either drop dead or he turns up.  I’ve got some people I trust in Waterfall who can start searching around here.  I don’t care what you have to do, but _get him back._ Got it?”

She turned around, but Sans was already gone.  With a muffled curse, she kicked her dummy back over it’s stand and rubbed her face.  This was going to be one long, fucking night.

===

Searingly bright light and earsplitting noise poured into the box.  Papyrus cried out as he was dumped onto a shockingly hard floor, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling his arms and legs close in a feeble attempt to protect himself from sensory overload. 

“You’re not dead?”

Several sets of hands roughly tugged at his wrists and shoulders, forcing him flat on the floor and yanking at the tentacles still wrapped through his ribcage.  Papyrus whimpered and bucked weakly against them, so drained and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stimuli that he barely felt conscious.

“Holy fuck, now THAT’S a haul.  Hurry up, don’t let any of ‘em get away!”

“Even the ones…?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Papyrus gasped as something roughly reached between his legs and dragged something out of his pussy.  The tentacles had been halfway through rubbing him into a (fourth?  Fifth??) peak.  The sudden lack of pressure and friction was making the abused, engorged flesh between his legs _throb._   The rest of his body wasn’t in much better shape.  The nasty little creatures were slick, but hours at their unrelenting mercy had rubbed every single bone in his body raw.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.  They were _fucking_ you?” an oddly familiar voice laughed.  Papyrus managed to crack his eyes open, just enough to see an overly tall, cat-like monster standing next to a tank that looked like it was full of flickering shadows.  After a second, he realized that it must be the tentacles they’d pulled out of the box and off his body.  They were…catching them?

Casually, the cat monster walked up and grabbed one of his ankles.  Papyrus couldn’t hold back a pained grunt as his leg was pulled upward, stretching out his cramped joints and sending a burning sting through the swollen constructs still hugging the bones of his pelvis.

 “They totally were,” he laughed, dropping Papyrus’ ankle.  “That’s just too funny.  They get you to come a few times, or do you not like it rough?”

Teasingly, he reached down gave Papyrus’ cock a few, quick strokes.  Papyrus bucked into the touch with a whimper, body shrieking with relief and renewed pain at the contact.  The monster laughed again and pulled away, leaving him arching impotently on the floor.

“Well, either way, you brought in three times the haul we’d normally get from just dust.  That’s pretty damn good.  Except you weren’t really supposed to survive, so _that’s_ kind of annoying…”

Papyrus weakly pulled himself into a foetal curl, trying to block out the light behind his arms.  If this cretin was going to kill him, he hoped he made it fast.  He had just enough magic to keep breathing, and even that was getting a little shaky.  He couldn’t fight off a toddler right now, much less a monster who was clearly teetering on the brink of succumbing to his LV.

“Honestly though, we were just being paid to make you disappear.  Nothing personal,” the cat monster mused.  “And this is pretty damn close to disappeared, right boys?”

As though on cue, several other monsters laughed cruelly, and someone gave the back of his legs a rough tap with a booted foot.  Papyrus didn’t react, focusing instead on trying to dispel his aching ecto-parts.  He could feel them using up his energy to stay formed, a slow, steady leech of power he didn’t have to spare.  If he could just get them to dissolve, he might have enough magic to take _one_ of them out, which was a whole lot better than just dying here on the fucking floor…

“And I’ve got a feeling you might just be the secret ingredient I’ve been looking for, so what say I keep you around for a bit longer?”

If Papyrus _could_ have responded, he’d have flatly demanded to be killed instead.  This entire affair was painfully demeaning, and he’d rather die than be forced back into that goddamn box.

“Like live bait,” the cat monster snickered to himself.  “Hey, that gives me an idea.  Pull his legs apart and hold him still.”

Papyrus didn’t have enough energy to resist as hard fingers wrapped themselves around his ankles and spread them wide, putting the crimson cock and vulva between his legs on full display.  His face flushed a bright, embarrassed scarlet despite his exhaustion as padded fingers inquisitively pressed along the length of his cock, then pushed it upward to examine the opening underneath.

“Huh.  Coulda sworn this was an ass but it’s a pussy, isn't it?” 

“Hnnn,” Papyrus whined as a set of fingers pushed his labia apart and flicked at the sensitive bud of nerves just below the base of his cock.  Was that what it was?  He hoped not.  The idea that he'd accidentally made a set of genitals, and moreover, that he'd made them _wrong_ was absolutely mortifying.

“Look at that, you've got a clit and everything.  Is that a skeleton thing?  Can’t say I’ve ever fucked one of your kind before.”

Papyrus turned his face away, legs trembling as a finger was roughly pushed inside.  It slipped into his passage with ease, drawing a stinging burn from the abused flesh.  He was so far off from getting some relief, it was unbearable, and every fucking time someone touched him it got _worse_.

“Nice and sensitive too.  Man, this is gonna suck for you.”

Something cold and sharp prodded at the skin over the tip of his cock.  Papyrus froze, eyesockets flying open.  The cat monster was holding a slender, claw-shaped magical bullet against the tip of his cock.

“This is gonna hurt,” he said cheerfully, then shoved the claw through the skin in one, forceful motion.  Papyrus screamed, spine arching off the ground and knees jerking inward as he somehow found the energy to struggle.  His captors cursed under their breath, holding him down.

“Now, now, don’t be a baby,” the fucker tutted over his uneven breaths, letting the claw dissipate, then carefully wrapping his fingers around the weeping construct.  “I’m just prettying you up for the fishes.”  Firmly, he threaded a small, silver stud through the hole and screwed a silver ball onto the blunt end, locking it in place inside the small wound.  It pinched and burned, making his cock feel so fucking engorged that it felt like it was going to explode.

“Two more,” the cat monster grinned, summoning another claw.

It ended up being more than two.  By the time he was finished, Papyrus had three studs in the shaft of his dick, one in the tip, a ring in his clitoral hood, and one in his tongue.  The metal was cold and irritating, stinging whenever he moved and making his already-aroused genitals feel hot and painfully sensitive.  The one in his mouth was especially bad.  For some reason, his tongue wouldn't dissipate, despite the fact that it was fucking sore and he DIDN’T WANT A PIECE OF METAL IN IT.  He had never wanted _anything_ more in his life than to tear these fucking studs out out and ram them down that cat-monster’s throat.  The thought simmered along his bones, keeping him conscious and aware as raw, coppery magic filled his mouth.

“All right, get some food into him and get him back down there,” his captor finally said, pushing Papyrus's cock upward to admire his work.  “Fresh bait’s on the hook now and he’s got _lots_ of work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW, it's been so long since I updated that the first chapter has a bit of cringe to it for me now. All of Papyrus' internal dialogue is just...just no...
> 
> Anyway, happy belated birthday Ellie! Hope you like suffering skeletons with a side-order of non-consensual genital piercing ^_^
> 
> Also, for people who might be a little unfamiliar with the Judge headcannon, there's a theory floating around that Sans is compelled to appear in Judgement Hall. You can take that a little further and say that he's been soul-bonded to whichever ruling monarch happens to be in charge of the Underground, as evidenced by the delta rune that (in the 'Tale universes) would be on the hand, but in the 'Fell universes would probably be on the chest or forehead for maximum effectiveness. Makes for lovely angst and so many Sansgore opportunities...

**Author's Note:**

> ...
> 
> Well, that happened.
> 
> Gift fic for AskEllie (NadaNine). I picked a couple things off her bingo card and then randomly decided to throw tentacles into it. Just because. Hope you like it Ellie! It's still early for birthday presents, but I didn't think you'd mind : )
> 
> If you want headcannon for these things, the tentacles are interested in Papyrus because he's made up of magic and they can absorb tiny amounts of it through contact. Normally, they'd be scavenging along the bottom of the lake for whatever scraps of magical residue had fallen from above, and they've evolved to be very efficient with their magic usage. Having a skeleton dropped into their laps is the equivalent of tossing a truck-load of chocolate into a starving African village. The more they rub him up, the more accessible his magic becomes, and the easier it is for them to absorb.
> 
> Hey, anyone want a really messed-up plot bunny to adopt? The creep who kidnapped Papyrus decides to leave him down there, and the tentacles feed him, keep him alive, and constantly fuck him senseless to more easily feed off his magic until, months later, Sans rescues him and helps him deal with the trauma. 
> 
> Just...throwing that out there...


End file.
